little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第5部分

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tender　you　any　slight　assistance　or　service？　He　will　be　very　glad。'

'Very　glad；'　said　Mr　Meagles；　ing　forward　with　his　wife　and　Clennam。
'Anything　short　of　speaking　the　language；　I　shall　be　delighted　to
undertake；　I　am　sure。'

'I　am　obliged　to　you；'　she　returned；　'but　my　arrangements　are　made；　and
I　prefer　to　go　my　own　way　in　my　own　manner。'

'Do　you？'　said　Mr　Meagles　to　himself；　as　he　surveyed　her　with　a　puzzled
look。　'Well！　There's　character　in　that；　too。'

'I　am　not　much　used　to　the　society　of　young　ladies；　and　I　am　afraid　I
may　not　show　my　appreciation　of　it　as　others　might。　A　pleasant　journey
to　you。　Good…bye！'

She　would　not　have　put　out　her　hand；　it　seemed；　but　that　Mr　Meagles　put
out　his　so　straight　before　her　that　she　could　not　pass　it。　She　put　hers
in　it；　and　it　lay　there　just　as　it　had　lain　upon　the　couch。

'Good…bye！'　said　Mr　Meagles。　'This　is　the　last　good…bye　upon　the　list；
for　Mother　and　I　have　just　said　it　to　Mr　Clennam　here；　and　he　only　waits
to　say　it　to　Pet。　Good…bye！　We　may　never　meet　again。'

'In　our　course　through　life　we　shall　meet　the　people　who　are　ing　to
meet　us；　from　many　strange　places　and　by　many　strange　roads；'　was　the
posed　reply；　'and　what　it　is　set　to　us　to　do　to　them；　and　what　it　is
set　to　them　to　do　to　us；　will　all　be　done。'　There　was　something　in　the
manner　of　these　words　that　jarred　upon　Pet's　ear。　It　implied　that　what
was　to　be　done　was　necessarily　evil；　and　it　caused　her　to　say　in　a
whisper；　'O　Father！'　and　to　shrink　childishly；　in　her　spoilt　way；　a
little　closer　to　him。　This　was　not　lost　on　the　speaker。

'Your　pretty　daughter；'　she　said；　'starts　to　think　of　such　things。　Yet；'
looking　full　upon　her；　'you　may　be　sure　that　there　are　men　and　women
already　on　their　road；　who　have　their　business　to　do　with　YOU；　and　who
will　do　it。　Of　a　certainty　they　will　do　it。　They　may　be　ing　hundreds；
thousands；　of　miles　over　the　sea　there；　they　may　be　close　at　hand　now；
they　may　be　ing；　for　anything　you　know　or　anything　you　can　do　to
prevent　it；　from　the　vilest　sweepings　of　this　very　town。'

With　the　coldest　of　farewells；　and　with　a　certain　worn　expression　on　her
beauty　that　gave　it；　though　scarcely　yet　in　its　prime；　a　wasted　look；
she　left　the　room。

Now；　there　were　many　stairs　and　passages　that　she　had　to　traverse　in
passing　from　that　part　of　the　spacious　house　to　the　chamber　she　had
secured　for　her　own　occupation。　When　she　had　almost　pleted　the
journey；　and　was　passing　along　the　gallery　in　which　her　room　was；　she
heard　an　angry　sound　of　muttering　and　sobbing。　A　door　stood　open；　and
within　she　saw　the　attendant　upon　the　girl　she　had　just　left；　the　maid
with　the　curious　name。

She　stood　still；　to　look　at　this　maid。　A　sullen；　passionate　girl！　Her
rich　black　hair　was　all　about　her　face；　her　face　was　flushed　and　hot；
and　as　she　sobbed　and　raged；　she　plucked　at　her　lips　with　an　unsparing
hand。

'Selfish　brutes！'　said　the　girl；　sobbing　and　heaving　between　whiles。
'Not　caring　what　bees　of　me！　Leaving　me　here　hungry　and　thirsty　and
tired；　to　starve；　for　anything　they　care！　Beasts！　Devils！　Wretches！'

'My　poor　girl；　what　is　the　matter？'

She　looked　up　suddenly；　with　reddened　eyes；　and　with　her　hands
suspended；　in　the　act　of　pinching　her　neck；　freshly　disfigured　with
great　scarlet　blots。　'It's　nothing　to　you　what's　the　matter。　It　don't
signify　to　any　one。'

'O　yes　it　does；　I　am　sorry　to　see　you　so。'

'You　are　not　sorry；'　said　the　girl。　'You　are　glad。　You　know　you　are
glad。　I　never　was　like　this　but　twice　over　in　the　quarantine　yonder；　and
both　times　you　found　me。　I　am　afraid　of　you。'

'Afraid　of　me？'

'Yes。　You　seem　to　e　like　my　own　anger；　my　own　malice；　my
own……whatever　it　is……I　don't　know　what　it　is。　But　I　am　ill…used；　I　am
ill…used；　I　am　ill…used！'　Here　the　sobs　and　the　tears；　and　the　tearing
hand；　which　had　all　been　suspended　together　since　the　first　surprise；
went　on　together　anew。

The　visitor　stood　looking　at　her　with　a　strange　attentive　smile。　It　was
wonderful　to　see　the　fury　of　the　contest　in　the　girl；　and　the　bodily
struggle　she　made　as　if　she　were　rent　by　the　Demons　of　old。

'I　am　younger　than　she　is　by　two　or　three　years；　and　yet　it's　me　that
looks　after　her；　as　if　I　was　old；　and　it's　she　that's　always　petted　and
called　Baby！　I　detest　the　name。　I　hate　her！　They　make　a　fool　of　her；
they　spoil　her。　She　thinks　of　nothing　but　herself；　she　thinks　no　more　of
me　than　if　I　was　a　stock　and　a　stone！'　So　the　girl　went　on。

'You　must　have　patience。'

'I　WON'T　have　patience！'

'If　they　take　much　care　of　themselves；　and　little　or　none　of　you；　you
must　not　mind　it。'

I　WILL　mind　it。'

'Hush！　Be　more　prudent。　You　forget　your　dependent　position。'

'I　don't　care　for　that。　I'll　run　away。　I'll　do　some　mischief。　I　won't
bear　it；　I　can't　bear　it；　I　shall　die　if　I　try　to　bear　it！'

The　observer　stood　with　her　hand　upon　her　own　bosom；　looking　at　the
girl；　as　one　afflicted　with　a　diseased　part　might　curiously　watch　the
dissection　and　exposition　of　an　analogous　case。

The　girl　raged　and　battled　with　all　the　force　of　her　youth　and　fulness
of　life；　until　by　little　and　little　her　passionate　exclamations　trailed
off　into　broken　murmurs　as　if　she　were　in　pain。　By　corresponding　degrees
she　sank　into　a　chair；　then　upon　her　knees；　then　upon　the　ground　beside
the　bed；　drawing　the　coverlet　with　her；　half　to　hide　her　shamed　head　and
wet　hair　in　it；　and　half；　as　it　seemed；　to　embrace　it；　rather　than　have
nothing　to　take　to　her　repentant　breast。

'Go　away　from　me；　go　away　from　me！　When　my　temper　es　upon　me；　I
am　mad。　I　know　I　might　keep　it　off　if　I　only　tried　hard　enough；　and
sometimes　I　do　try　hard　enough；　and　at　other　times　I　don't　and　won't。
What　have　I　said！　I　knew　when　I　said　it；　it　was　all　lies。　They　think　I
am　being　taken　care　of　somewhere；　and　have　all　I　want。

They　are　nothing　but　good　to　me。　I　love　them　dearly；　no　people　could
ever　be　kinder　to　a　thankless　creature　than　they　always　are　to　me。　Do；
do　go　away；　for　I　am　afraid　of　you。　I　am　afraid　of　myself　when　I　feel　my
temper　ing；　and　I　am　as　much　afraid　of　you。　Go　away　from　me；　and　let
me　pray　and　cry　myself　better！'　The　day　passed　on；　and　again　the　wide
stare　stared　itself　out；　and　the　hot　night　was　on　Marseilles；　and
through　it　the　caravan　of　the　morning；　all　dispersed；　went　their
appointed　ways。　And　thus　ever　by　day　and　night；　under　the　sun　and　under
the　stars；　climbing　the　dusty　hills　and　toiling　along　the　weary　plains；
journeying　by　land　and　journeying　by　sea；　ing　and　going　so　strangely；
to　meet　and　to　act　and　react　on　one　another；　move　all　we　restless
travellers　through　the　pilgrimage　of　life。




CHAPTER　3。　Home


It　was　a　Sunday　evening　in　London；　gloomy；　close；　and　stale。　Maddening
church　bells　of　all　degrees　of　dissonance；　sharp　and　flat；　cracked
and　clear；　fast　and　slow；　made　the　brick…and…mortar　echoes　hideous。
Melancholy　streets；　in　a　penitential　garb　of　soot；　steeped　the　souls　of
the　people　who　were　condemned　to　look　at　them　out　of　windows；　in　dire
despondency。　In　every　thoroughfare；　up　almost　every　alley；　and　down
almost　every　turning；　some　doleful　bell　was　throbbing；　jerking；　tolling；
as　if　the　Plague　were　in　the　city　and　the　dead…carts　were　going　round。
Everything　was　bolted　and　barred　that　could　by　possibility　furnish
relief　to　an　overworked　people。　No　pictures；　no　unfamiliar　animals；　no
rare　plants　or　flowers；　no　natural　or　artificial　wonders　of　the　ancient
world……all　TABOO　with　that　enlightened　strictness；　that　the　ugly　South
Sea　gods　in　the　British　Museum　might　have　supposed　themselves　at　home
again。　Nothing　to　see　but　streets；　streets；　streets。　Nothing　to　breathe
but　streets；　streets；　streets。　Nothing　to　change　the　brooding　mind；
or　raise　it　up。　Nothing　for　the　spent　toiler　to　do；　but　to　pare　the
monotony　of　his　seventh　day　with　the　monotony　of　his　six　days；　think
what　a　weary　life　he　led；　and　make　the　best　of　it……or　the　worst；
according　to　the　probabilities。

At　such　a　happy　time；　so　propitious　to　the　interests　of　religion　and
morality；　Mr　Arthur　Clennam；　newly　arrived　from　Marseilles　by　way　of
Dover；　and　by　Dover　coach　the　Blue…eyed　Maid；　sat　in　the　window　of　a
coffee…house　on　Ludgate　Hill。　Ten　thousand　responsible　houses　surrounded
him；　frowning　as　heavily　on　the　streets　they　posed；　as　if　they　were
every　one　inhabited　by　the　ten　young　men　of　the　Calender's　story；　who
blackened　their　faces　and　bemoaned　their　miseries　every　night。　Fifty
thousand　lairs　surrounded　him　where　people　lived　so　unwholesomely　that
fair　water　put　into　their　crowded　rooms　on　Saturday　night；　would　be
corrupt　on　Sunday　morning；　albeit　my　lord；　their　county　member；　was
amazed　that　they　failed　to　sleep　in　pany　with　their　butcher's　meat。
Miles　of　close　wells　and　pits　of　houses；　where　the　inhabitants　gasped
for　air；　stretched　far　away　towards　every　point　of　the　pass。　Through
the　heart　of　the　town　a　deadly　sewer　ebbed　and　flowed；　in　the　place　of
a　fine　fresh　river。　What　secular　want　could　the　million　or　so　of
human　beings　whose　daily　labour；　six　days　in　the　week；　lay　among　these
Arcadian　objects；　from　the　sweet　sameness　of　which　they　had　no　escape
between　the　cradle　and　the　grave……what　secular　want　could　they　possibly
have　upon　their　seventh　day？　Clearly　they　could　want　nothing　but　a
stringent　policeman。

Mr　Arthur　Clennam　sat　in　the　window　of　the　coffee…house　on　Ludgate　Hill；
counting　one　of　the　neighbouring　bells；　making　sentences　and　burdens　of
songs　out　of　it　in　spite　of　himself；　and　wondering　how　many　sick
people　it　might　be　the　death　of　in　the　course　of　the　year。　As　the　hour
approached；　its　changes　of　measure　made　it　more　and　more　exasperating。
At　the　quarter；　it　went　off　into　a　condition　of　deadly…lively
importunity；　urging　the　populace　in　a　voluble　manner　to　e　to　church；
e　to　church；　e　to　church！　At　the　ten　minutes；　it　became　aware
that　the　congregation　would　be　scanty；　and　slowly　hammered　out　in　low
spirits；　They　WON'T　e；　they　WON'T　e；　they　WON'T　e！　At　the　five
minutes；　it　abandoned　hope；　and　shook　every　house　in　the　neighbourhood
for　three　hundred　seconds；　with　one　dismal　swing　per　second；　as　a　groan
of　despair。

'Thank　Heaven！'　said　Clennam；　when　the　hour　struck；　and　the　bell
stopped。

But　its　sound　had　revived　a　long　train　of　miserable　Sundays；　and　the
procession　would　not　stop　with　the　bell；　but　continued　to　march　on。
'Heaven　forgive　me；'　said　he；　'and　those　who　trained　me。　How　I　have
hated　this　day！'

There　was　the　dreary　Sunday　of　his　childhood；　when　he　sat　with　his　hands
before　him；　scared　out　of　his　senses　by　a　horrible　tract　which　menced
business　with　the　poor　child　by　asking　him　in　its　title；　why　he　was
going　to　Perdition？……a　piece　of　curiosity　that　he　really；　in　a　frock　and
drawers；　was　not　in　a　condition　to　satisfy……and　which；　for　the　further
attraction　of　his　infant　mind；　had　a　parenthesis　in　every　other　line
with　some　such　hiccupping　reference　as　2　Ep。　Thess。　c。　iii；　v。　6　&
7。　There　was　the　sleepy　Sunday　of　his　boyhood；　when；　like　a　military
deserter；　he　was　marched　to　chapel　by　a　picquet　of　teachers　three　times
a　day；　morally　handcuffed　to　another　boy；　and　when　he　would　willingly
have　bartered　two　meals　of　indigestible　sermon　for　another　ounce　or
two　of　inferior　mutton　at　his　scanty　dinner　in　the　flesh。　There　was　the
interminable　Sunday　of　his　nonage；　when　his　mother；　stern　of　face　and
unrelenting　of　heart；　would　sit　all　day　behind　a　Bible……bound；　like　her
own　construction　of　it；　in　the　hardest；　barest；　and　straitest　boards；
with　one　dinted　ornament　on　the　cover　like　the　drag　of　a　chain；　and　a
wrathful　sprinkling　of　red　upon　the　edges　of　the　leaves……as　if　it；　of
all　books！　were　a　fortification　against　sweetness　of　temper；　natural
affection；　and　gentle　intercourse。　There　was　the　resentful　Sunday　of　a
little　later；　when　he　sat　down　glowering　and　glooming　through　the　tardy
length　of　the　day；　with　a　sullen　sense　of　injury　in　his　heart；　and　no
more　real　knowledge　of　the　beneficent　history　of　the　New　Testament　than
if　he　had　been　bred　among　idolaters。　There　was　a　legion　of　Sundays；
all　days　of　unserviceable　bitterness　and　mortification；　slowly　passing
before　him。　'Beg　pardon；　sir；'　said　a　brisk　waiter；　rubbing　the　table。
'Wish　see　bed…room？'

'Yes。　I　have　just　made　up　my　mind　to　do　it。'

'Chaymaid！'　cried　the　waiter。　'Gelen　box　num　seven　wish　see　room！'

'Stay！'　said　Clennam；　rousing　himself。　'I　was　not　thinking　of　what　I
said；　I　answered　mechanically。　I　am　not　going　to　sleep　here。　I　am　going
home。'

'Deed；　sir？　Chaymaid！　Gelen　box　num　seven；　not　go　sleep　here；　gome。'

He　sat　in　the　same　place　as　the　day　died；　looking　at　the　dull　houses
opposite；　and　thinking；　if　the　disembodied　spirits　of　former　inhabitants
were　ever　conscious　of　them；　how　they　must　pity　themselves　for　their　old
places　of　imprisonment。　Sometimes　a　face　would　appear　behind　the　dingy
glass　of　a　window；　and　would　fade　away　into　the　gloom　as　if　it　had　seen
enough　of　life　and　had　vanished　out　of　it。　Presently　the　rain　began　to
fall　in　slanting　lines　between　him　and　those　houses；　and　people　began
to　collect　under　cover　of　the　public　passage　opposite；　and　to　look　out
hopelessly　at　the　sky　as　the　rain　dropped　thicker　and　faster。　Then　wet
umbrellas　began　to　appear；　draggled　skirts；　and　mud。　What　the　mud　had
been　doing　with　itself；　or　where　it　came　from；　who　could　say？　But　it
seemed　to　collect　in　a　moment；　as　a　crowd　will；　and　in　five　minutes　to
have　splashed　all　the　sons　and　daughters　of　Adam。　The　lamplighter　was
going　his　rounds　now；　and　as　the　fiery　jets　sprang　up　under　his　touch；
one　might　have　fancied　them　astonished　at　being　suffered　to　introduce
any　show　of　brightness　into　such　a　dismal　scene。

Mr　Arthur　Clennam　took　up　his　hat　and　buttoned　his　coat；　and　walked　out。
In　the　country；　the　rain　would　have　developed　a　thousand　fresh　scents；
and　every　drop　would　have　had　its　bright　association　with　some　beautiful
form　of　growth　or　life。　In　the　city；　it　developed　only　foul　stale
smells；　and　was　a　sickly；　lukewarm；　dirt…stained；　wretched　addition　to
the　gutters。

He　crossed　by　St　Paul's　and　went　down；　at　a　long　angle；　almost　to　the
water's　edge；　through　some　of　the　crooked　and　descending　streets　which
lie　（and　lay　more　crookedly　and　closely　then）　between　the　river　and
Cheapside。　Passing；　now　the　mouldy　hall　of　some　obsolete　Worshipful
pany；　now　the　illuminated　windows　of　a　Congregationless　Church　that
seemed　to　be　waiting　for　some　adventurous　Belzoni　to　dig　it　out　and
discover　its　history；　passing　silent　warehouses　and　wharves；　and　here
and　there　a　narrow　alley　leading　to　the　river；　where　a　wretched　little
bill；　FOUND　DROWNED；　was　weeping　on　the　wet　wall；　he　came　at　last　to　the
house　he　sought。　An　old　brick　house；　so　dingy　as　to　be　all　but　black；
standing　by　itself　within　a　gateway。　Before　it；　a　square　court…yard
where　a　shrub　or　two　and　a　patch　of　grass　were　as　rank　（which　is　saying
much）　as　the　iron　railings　enclosing　them　were　rusty；　behind　it；
a　jumble　of　roots。　It　was　a　double　house；　with　long；　narrow；
heavily…framed　windows。　Many　years　ago；　it　had　had　it　in　its　mind　to
slide　down　sideways；　it　had　been　propped　up；　however；　and　was　leaning　on
some　half…dozen　gigantic　crutches：　which　gymnasium　for　the　neighbouring
cats；　weather…stained；　smoke…blackened；　and　overgrown　w